Hannah Abbott and the Reverse Sue Effect
by RadishGirl
Summary: Everyone must be from somewhere, even Mary Sues. When Hannah Abbott is forced into a new foreign exchange program, she must discover the secrets of the Salem Witches' Institute and its special students. UPDATED after a really long hiatus. 6th year AU.
1. Default Chapter

**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Revlon Eye Twinkler is homage to Dave Barry's Revlon Eye Moistener jokes. It's not an actual product, and no money is being made off of that, either.

**Author notes:** This is (obviously) parody of Mary Sues. I don't necessarily hate OC-fics (some are quite shiny and nice), I just thought it would be amusing to explore the angle of a world where Mary Sues are the norm, and shove a random Hufflepuff in there. Not to say that Hannah's acompletely random choice—I've been very fond of her since the "Sirius Black can turn into a flowering shrub" thing.

* * *

Hannah Abbott was thrilled to return to Hogwarts for her sixth year, in part because of the fact that going back to school meant she was relatively safe from genocidal megalomaniacs for a few months. She was settled quite comfortably in a plush seat on the Hogwarts Express, trading Chocolate Frog cards and debating the merits of various antique brooms. 

"I'm telling you, the Cleansweep One was easily the best broom in the world up to that point. Restore one and update it a little, and you'd be able to outstrip a Nimbus 1000, easy," said Susan Bones, popping a Chocolate Frog into her mouth.

Ernie Macmillan rolled his eyes. "Yes, and there are how many wizards qualified to do that? Three or four in the country, maybe. And that type of restoration is horribly complicated, anyway. The Comet 140 had _style_—and the braking charms were so much better; you're far less likely to break your neck."

"Yes, but it was never anywhere near as fast as the old Cleansweep—not much point in breaking quickly when you're practically already stopped, is there?" replied Susan, snickering. "Hannah, please tell Ernie how insane he is so that he may seek treatment for his little delusions."

"Wellllll…I do agree that Ernie is rather daft in general, but you both have a point," Hannah said, completely indecisive. She looked rather gleeful upon seeing the card that came with her frog. "Oooh, I've got Agrippa! Is Ron Weasley still offering all his doubles for that one?"

Susan rested her chin in her hand and stared at her for a moment. "Do tell me if you ever make a decision on any subject, all right, Hannah? It'll be one for the _Prophet_ if you ever make the bold decision as to what to have for breakfast."

"I decided perfectly well this morning that I'd have waffles."

"And?" Ernie prompted. He knew this little argument far too well by now.

"Well, Mum was really busy and didn't feel like making waffles, but my piece of toast was really nice!"

"You're hopeless, my friend," Susan told her affectionately.

They continued on in relative peace for the rest of the journey.

When Hannah exited her horseless carriage, though, she knew immediately that something was wrong. Professor Dumbledore was standing at the entrance, wearing a grim expression. Literally—there was a grim expression silk-screened onto his robes, disturbingly enough.

"Lana? Lana Cabot? What in the name of Merlin's left shoe are you doing here?" asked Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling as he put his bottle of Revlon Eye Twinkler (not tested on animals; only 15 sickles at select stores) back in the pocket of his robes.

"Do you mean me, Professor? I'm Hannah Abbott, not Lana Cabot," replied Hannah, feeling very confused. Was Dumbledore going senile? (Answer: Probably, but didn't we already know that?) He usually remembered the names of every student in the school, which said something for his memory. It was also quite unusual that he called her by her first name—normally he would have called her Miss Abbott. What had happened to the beloved headmaster?

Dumbledore muttered something that sounded horribly like, "Darn Hufflepuffs! They're all alike anyway; why would you bother to name them?"

Hannah was mortified. "Why would Dumbledore say that? Just last June, he gave a speech at the Leaving Feast about how each house, and each student is important to Hogwarts, and that Hogwarts must stand united or crumble. Is this some sort of joke?" she wondered silently.

Regaining her composure, Hannah politely asked, "Pardon me, Professor, but I didn't catch that."

"Oh, I just said that you should be at the Salem Witches' Institute for your foreign exchange trip. Didn't you get your owl? The American girl is already here," he told her, gesturing across the lawn.

She glanced in the direction Dumbledore had pointed, hoping desperately to see Kirly McCormack, the lead guitarist of the Weird Sisters standing there, waiting to propose, as that would at least indicate that this was merely a very odd dream. Alas, what she saw was an extraordinarily beautiful girl, with every boy in Hogwarts (and some of the girls) surrounding her, gawping at the girl as though she were the original Veela. At the center of the crowd, right next to the girl, were Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, each alternately staring at the girl and glaring murderously at the other. Pansy Parkinson was trying to drag Malfoy away, and seemed rather put out that he wasn't following her.

"She's soooooooo cool! She said she'd give me a makeover; isn't that awesome?" said a girl walking past. It took Hannah a few minutes to realize that this person was actually Hermione Granger. It appeared as though she'd been abducted by aliens and replaced with this strange girl who was chatting animatedly about purple hair dye to…_Loony Luna Lovegood?_ Hannah stared, completely bewildered. Luna was wearing a black tank top that bared her midriff, and her wavy, straggly blond hair had been straightened, cut, and streaked with blue. She wore far too much eyeliner and looked rather frightening. Though Hannah only knew her through the DA, she felt sure that Luna would never dress like that normally. Although, those weirdo hats of hers were almost this odd…almost.

"Yeah, isn't she great? She did my makeover on the train," said the girl who appeared to be Luna.

"_And_ she's from the Salem Witches' Institute! According to _An Appraisal Of Magical Education Worldwide_, it's the best magical institution in the Americas. They do quite a bit of work with other types of magics, too—stuff from all over the world. Isn't that _awesome_?" asked the girl who appeared to be Hermione, apparently rhetorically.

"Everyone's acting so crazy," Hannah thought. "Maybe it's best to just go along with this, at least for now. What's the worst that can happen?"

"By the way, do you like what she suggested to update my look? She says that it makes me look 'totally punk', which I'm fairly certain is a good thing," said the headmaster, tearing Hannah out of her reverie. "That'll teach Rita Skeeter to call me an obsolete dingbat!" said Dumbledore, pointing at the grim expression on his robes.

"Er, Professor? I didn't hear anything over the summer about this foreign exchange thing…what, exactly, am I supposed to do?" asked Hannah, stating the obvious. "Also, why was I picked for this foreign exchange program? It's new, isn't it?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled sagely, and he replied, "You shall have to search deep inside yourself to realize your destiny."

"Yes, of course, but what does that have to do with anything?"

My eyes twinkled sagely, didn't they? What more do you want?" griped Dumbledore indignantly. "And we need to get rid of a prefect so we can give the other girl a spot."

"A means of transportation might be useful, I suppose." Hannah was beginning to think that the sooner she got out of here, the better. It was getting rather frightening. "I worked so hard to be a prefect, and she just waltzes in and takes my spot?" she thought angrily. It was as though this girl had pranced in and taken over! She would have liked dearly to say that out loud, but, despite the whole world going crazy, she couldn't bring herself to say something that impolite to Dumbledore, who was a bit of a hero to her.

Dumbledore took out the bottle of Revlon Eye Twinkler and pointed his wand at it. "_Portus_. Don't worry; I know what you're thinking. It's empty, so it's not like I'm wasting it," he told her, seeing the look of surprise on her face.

"But, sir, that not what I was thinking. Isn't it illegal to set up an unauthorized Portkey?"

"Laws, shmaws! I'm Albus Freaking Dumbledore! I can do whatever I bloody well want!" Actually, that wasn't quite true. His middle name was Percival Wulfric Brian, not Freaking. But, yeah, he could pretty much do whatever he wanted, mostly because to others he could either do no wrong, or they were terrified of him, or both. In any case, he was Albus "Freaking" Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, and he could pretty much do whatever he bloody well wanted.

"Well…all right, Professor," she said, wondering if she should write to Madam Pomfrey while she was in America and ask her to check and see if the headmaster had been skipping his medication. That would certainly explain a lot: his fixation with revolting candies like Cockroach Clusters and sherbet lemons, for instance.

Hannah wasn't at all sure about this, but she had always wanted to visit America; this seemed an ideal situation. Death Eater activity across the pond was mercifully minimal—even in the first war, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named hadn't managed to get much of a hold in North America. And, if Hermione Granger was right, and she usually was, the Salem Witches' Institute was quite an advanced school, so she would be well-prepared for her N.E.W.T.s next year. With any luck, that would help her prevent another Flamingo Incident. This in mind, she dragged her trunk a few inches closer to her, and placed a finger on the Portkey.

* * *

Chapter 2 will be up shortly, and that's where things start to get pink and sparkly. And alliterative! 

Reviews and constructive criticism are warm and fuzzy, and reviewers will get a coupon for a free sample of Revlon Eye Twinkler. (Results may vary, void where prohibited, offer not valid in the United States, Canada, Mexico, the U.K., Ireland, or any other country.)


	2. Chapter 2

The force of the Portkey knocked Hannah to her knees. When the rush of colour finally subsided, Hannah looked up to find a tall, extremely pretty girl with purple hair down to her waist offering her a hand up.

"Hi. I'm Serena Selena Serafina Severusina Salazarina Saltinia Seabreezeina Startwinklina Serendipity Serenity Selenity Senility Snape-Slytherin. You must be the girl from Hogwarts," the purple-haired girl said, helping Hannah to her feet.

"Er, yes. I'm Hannah. Hannah Abbott."

"What's your full name?" Serena asked, as though Hannah had violated some unspoken social contract that one must introduce one's self with any and all middle names.

"Well, my middle name's Anne." Serena tutted as if this were a bad thing, not to have a few dozen middle names to spare. Hannah privately felt that even with her single middle name, the number of middle names in the room per person was still mildly ridiculous.

"I'm supposed to take you on a tour of campus. School hasn't started yet, so you can get settled before you have to start classes." Hannah finally had a chance to look around.

"Why are we in a clothes shop?"

Serena surveyed Hannah's robes with distaste. "Well, we can't let you go to classes looking like that, can we? You look like a nun! It violates our dress code to have so little skin showing." Serena managed to say this in a way that still endeared her to any and all passers-by.

"What's your favourite colour?" Serena asked mildly, thumbing through the racks of clothing.

"Er, yellow, I guess."

Serena pulled out a yellow sequined tube top. "How's this?"

Hannah thought it was in rather poor taste, and doubted it would suit her figure. "I don't think it would look very good on me."

"Nonsense."

Hannah soon found herself shoved into a dressing room with lots of halter tops and skirts that would make very nice belts. She had no idea how she'd gotten there. She tried them on, but agreed with her previous assessment that these outfits didn't suit her. She felt very self-conscious.

Serena knocked on the door to the dressing room. "Hey, come out here and let me see that outfit!"

"Er…I don't really like it."

"We've got to get going, and I've already paid for that with some gold from your trunk, so hurry up and get out here." Hannah felt very annoyed that Serena had bought this without asking her, but reluctantly opened the door.

"You look great," Serena said. She gazed at herself in the mirror. "Eww, I'm so fat, though. I need to lose some weight."

This was patently ridiculous, and Hannah told her so. If Serena thought herself fat, Hannah thought that she might as well get a job at Seaworld grabbing fish from trainers' hands.

"Oh, you're so nice, Hannah."

Serena quickly took Hannah through the rest of the shops and got her some makeup, a CD player, and some various magical knickknacks that Hannah couldn't discern the purpose of. "This mall is owned by the school. We can come back later if you like, but we're just getting you the bare-bones essentials tonight," Serena told her.

Hannah yawned. The time difference was making her feel completely exhausted. "Can you just show me to the dormitory? I'm really tired."

"All right," Serena said. "You have all the same classes with me, so you won't get too lost if we put off the grand tour." She led her away from the mall, across a field, and into a large, cathedral-like building. Hannah struggled to keep her eyes open up a few flights of stairs and down a few corridors, when finally they arrived at the dormitory and Serena unlocked the door.

The room's pink walls were plastered with posters of boys from Hogwarts. It was kind of creepy. Most seemed to feature Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, or Draco Malfoy. She did spot one of Blaise Zabini—he looked really girly in that picture, though. There were sparkly pink chairs next to a matching couch, and doors leading to individual bedrooms. Three girls were gathered around a big-screen TV watching something on it.

"Girls, this is Hannah Anne Abbott. She's from Hogwarts," Serena said.

"Wow, you're from Hogwarts?" a tall girl with long black hair asked, dreamily. "So, who are you eternally destined for: Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, or Draco Malfoy?"

"Eternally destined for?" Hannah repeated blankly. "Well, Harry and Ron are all right and everything, but Malfoy's a Death Eater in training. I've been seeing Ernie Macmillan a bit, off and on."

"Never heard of him. I'm eternally destined for Harry, myself. I can see souls, you know," said the black-haired girl. "Plus, I'm totally his dead godfather's daughter. I mean, what says love like being the only child of your dead godfather who he conveniently forgot to mention?"

It struck Hannah as odd that this girl was referring to her father in such a manner, but she didn't say anything. Perhaps this was the girl's way of dealing with grief. "I always thought compatibility, common interests, and meaningful conversations said love, personally," she said quietly.

The black-haired girl plowed on anyway. "Plus, my name would be so cool: Persephone Polyphemia Pretty Pony Princess Pink Pyrex Plastic Pot Calling The Kettle Black-Potter. And we both have green eyes! It's totally fate. I mean, half the girls in here think they're eternally destined for Harry Potter, but he's mine. I mean, it's obvious!"

"As long as you leave Draco for me, I'm fine," said a red-haired girl who hadn't looked up from the television.

"Oh, come on Melina, stop staring at the video from Draco's bedroom and introduce yourself to Hannah," said Serena. "And he's mine anyway, so you might as well forget it."

"I'm Melina Melissa Marissa Medusa Methuselah Magenta Maventa Malevolenta McMuffin-McClaggan-McGonagall. Draco's One True Love," the redhead told her.

"Only Draco doesn't appear to know it, does he?" asked Serena nastily. Hannah finally looked at the screen. It was actually Malfoy, and he appeared to be in the early stages of being seduced by that girl who'd stolen her prefect spot.

"You mean, you _actually_ watch people at Hogwarts on TV? How?" Hannah asked, bewildered.

"Well, mostly only Draco. Before our roommate took your spot at Hogwarts, there were three of us arguing over who was eternally destined for him. We wanted to make sure at least one of us got him. Since she got him, I'm a bit interested in Blaise. Serena won't give up on him, though," said Melina.

"That's really…creepy," Hannah replied. She glanced at the TV again. The scene was getting a bit close to pornographic. "Can we turn that off?"

"If you say so," said Serena. She picked up a pink sparkly remote and turned off the TV.

Hannah paused, hoping that she'd get a chance to get a quick nap now.

"I get Ron," said the brunette girl sitting on the armrest of the large pink couch. "But almost everybody who's nice thinks they get Ron if they don't get Harry, so I'm not holding out too much hope. I'm Princess Gretchen Gretta Gertrude Grout Glow-in-the-Dark Glitterglue Gray Green Girdle Riddle, by the way."

Hannah was quite sure by this point that there was a minimum middle name requirement to get into this school, which, with her lonely little Anne lurking between names, she could never dare dream to fulfil. Not that she really cared one way or another, mind. It was just one of those weird American things, she guessed. "You're a princess? Of where?" she asked curiously. She wasn't aware of many American princesses.

"Oh, she's the heiress to the Riddle estate, Princess of Darkness, Voldemort's daughter and all that. Doesn't want it, either, the lucky witch. What I wouldn't give to have all that stuff to give up and be redeemed for so I could get a hot Gryffindor," said Serena. This was all said with the casual air of one envying another's socks.

"So, are you a Slytherin or a Gryffindor, Hannah?" asked Persephone, before Hannah could comment on the fact that a person in the room had just been introduced as the daughter of a genocidal lunatic.

"I'm a Hufflepuff, actually."

"A Huffywhatsit now?" asked Gretchen.

"A Hufflepuff—Helga Hufflepuff's house."

"You've got to be making that up! Hufflypuff! Sounds like an H.R. Puffinstuf show! And I think we'd know if there were houses other than Gryffindor and Slytherin!" said Melina.

Hannah rolled her eyes. "I know Hufflepuff doesn't get much glory, but if you know so much about Hogwarts, where do you think Cedric Diggory was from? And there's Ravenclaw, too—what about Cho Chang, if you're so interested in Harry Potter's love life?"

"Cho? We hate her, the stupid witch!" said Melina vehemently.

"Yeah! She went on a date with Harry and all she did was cry about that stupid Cedric guy!" Serena added, venomous.

"I would never cry on a date with Harry!" said Persephone, "Except, you know, when I'm thanking the Nondenominational Deity that I got to go out with him. But even then, I'd only cry in the bathroom. And I'd make sure to use clear mascara, so he wouldn't know I'd been crying. I wouldn't want Harry thinking I was the sort of girl who'd go cry on him."

"The poor girl did lose her first love less than a year ago, and Harry was the last person to see him. That can't have been easy on her." Hannah felt an intense surge of pity for Cho. They'd never really talked outside of the DA, but anyone could see what a hard time she'd had.

"I never thought about it that way," said Gretchen timidly. "Maybe Hannah's right."

Hannah felt gratified that the other girl agreed with her. She'd rather hoped to make the others feel bad about insulting Cho, but all they could seem to do was glare at Gretchen.

"Whatever. She's still a bitch," Persephone said.

Hannah was feeling distinctly uncomfortable. "I'm a little tired from the long trip; which room is mine?"

Serena pointed to the door on the far left of the room. "That one. Oh, by the way, remind me to give you the form for the Columbus Day Ball when you wake up," she said.

"Columbus Day Ball?"

"Oh, it's great," Melina said, "We sign up for mystery dates from the Salem Wizards' Institute, and have a great dance."

Hannah stifled a yawn. "Sounds fun. Good night."

She walked into her room. It was decorated in much the same style as the living room. Hannah wasn't very fond of the colour pink, and was quite sure she'd be sick of the pink canopy and satin sheets very soon. However, she found that they were very comfortable, and fell asleep quickly.


End file.
